A glowing star of ardent ray In midnight skies we trace, It is a central sun, they say, Enshrined in distant space. Around it giant planets turn, In motion constant roll, With fiery force its splendors burn, As for thee burns my soul. Oh, star ascendant at my birth! For tears, for sadness, or for mirth, You rule my destiny on earth. II. Oh, star of stars! in thee no flaw The telescopes reveal; Thine orbs obey attraction’s law, And round thy centre wheel. Beloved, thou and I are one, Nor parted e’er can be; I am thy planet, thou my sun, For all eternity. Oh, star ascendant at my birth! For tears, for sadness, or for mirth, You rule my destiny on earth. “Thank you, Miss Dengelton,” said Caliphronas, when the song ended; “I like your singing much better than the words. They are somewhat perplexing.” “They are up-to-date words,” remarked Crispin calmly; “the music is also up to date, of the most advanced school, a blending of Dvoräk and Rubinstein.” “What awful names!” cried Caliphronas, with a shudder; “they grate on the ear.” “So does their music in some cases; there is nothing like consistency. Still, some of the advanced school of music’s efforts are delightful. This dance of Dvoräk’s, for instance.” Bringing down his hands on the keys with a crash, he played one of those weird gypsy dances of the Bohemian musician, which thrill the listener with their wild capriciousness, and conjure up pictures of a mode of life quite alien to our prosaic respectability. That strange chord resounds loudly through the room, and at once we see the wild horses flying across the illimitable gray plain, the fierce voices of their gypsy riders pealing up to the sombre sky of midnight. That rapid medley of sounds, and lo! the fires burn redly under the trees, while round them bound tawny women with flashing eyes, tossing their arms and clashing their tambourines to the wild rhythm of the music. Death on the cards, love in the stars, and the muttered prophecies of crouching hags, terrified at the omen of flying bat, of shrieking night-bird. Another whirl of glittering notes scatter themselves through the air, crash, crash, crash, chord upon chord sounds fiercely, with intervals of sparkling chromatic runs like the falling of broken spray, and then one final chord, bringing the red of the dawn, the chill winds of morning, and the uprising of the cheerful sun.